


Healing

by jstabe



Category: Jossverse
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-01-13
Updated: 2005-01-13
Packaged: 2017-10-29 19:34:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/323351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jstabe/pseuds/jstabe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>“Maybe she doesn’t think it’s a waste of her time,” Spike said, his tone emotionless.</i></p><p><i>“Fred’s always been too nice for her own good.”</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Healing

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place after _Angel_ episode "Damaged".

Spike sat on the couch, nursing a beer. What he really wanted was to take a long satisfying pull, but it hurt so much to open the beer bottles that he forced them to last. He looked at his arms; the healing scars were a raw angry red and they burned as if doused with holy water. He leaned his head against the back of the couch. The doctors had given him some sort of mystical herb concoction to help with the pain, but it was going to be at least a couple of hours before he could take anymore. They’d also given him something to help him heal; apparently speedy vampiric healing didn’t extend to hacked off limbs. His body wasn’t used to the potent drugs and they made him feel fuzzy and disconnected. Probably shouldn’t be adding alcohol to the mix, but hey, it wasn’t like it could kill him. And maybe it could take away the pain that the drugs couldn’t seem to touch.

He brought the bottle to his lips, grimacing at the pull on his scars. He drifted, high on booze and drugs and pain. A knock on the door brought him back to earth and he smiled. Fred. Since he’d left the hospital two days ago, she’d been dropping in at all hours, checking on him. She helped him eat, straightened up the apartment, and generally kept him sane. Another knock and he actually whimpered at just the thought of having to turn the doorknob. Hell with that.

“Door’s open,” he called.

The door opened to reveal Angel standing there. Spike’s smile vanished and his expression became guarded.

“What are you doing here?”

“What does it look like?” Angel held up a cooler. “Fred’s stuck in the lab so she asked me to bring this to you.”

Spike wasn’t sure where the sense of disappointment came from. Just because he and Angel had managed to have a civil conversation in the hospital, that didn’t make them friends. So why did he care that Angel had come because he had to and not because he wanted to?

“Spike? Spike!”

Spike shook his head as if to clear it. Angel was looking at him irritably and Spike bristled. He struggled up off the couch, careful not to use his arms to push himself up. He took the cooler from Angel, barely managing not to wince when the weight pulled on his stitches. He made it to the kitchen and put the cooler on the counter. He opened the lid then paused a minute to steel himself against the agony that pulling open the refrigerator door would bring.

Angel didn’t notice the rigid line of Spike’s back and he couldn’t see the pain etched on Spike’s face. It looked to him like Spike was managing just fine on his own. He remembered how worried Fred had been about Spike and his eyes narrowed.

“It looks like you’re managing just fine on your own. Why are you making Fred waste her time coming here to play nursemaid?”

Spike’s eyes closed against the sudden rush of pain caused by Angel’s words. Great, emotional pain to go along with the physical. His unlife just kept getting better and better. He yanked the refrigerator door opened, ignoring the white-hot flare of pain. He began to put away the blood bags.

“Maybe she doesn’t think it’s a waste of her time,” Spike said, his tone emotionless.

“Fred’s always been too nice for her own good.”

Slight flinch and then Spike went back to filling the refrigerator. “Thanks for playing delivery boy, but you don’t have to stay. Don’t let the door smack your arse on your way out.”

Angel was really tempted to leave, but Fred was convinced that Spike needed help. Angel knew that if he didn’t do exactly as she’d asked him to, she’d nag him to a second death.

“Fred said you needed help feeding.”

“Ta, mate, but I can handle it.”

“Suit yourself.”

Angel was turning to leave when he noticed Spike putting a bag into the refrigerator; the slender hand was shaking almost imperceptibly. For the first time, Angel saw the careful way Spike was moving, noticed the tension in his body. He crossed the room and turned Spike’s face towards him. Angel took in the pain-wracked features and shook his head.

“Christ, you’re stubborn. Why did you say didn’t need any help?”

“I didn’t say I didn’t need it, I said I didn’t want it from you.”

“Why not?” Angel actually sounded confused.

Spike longed to smack him upside the head, but he knew that would hurt him more than it hurt Angel.

“I don’t know, mate. Why don’t you replay everything you’ve said to me since you got here. Maybe it’ll make sense then.”

Angel just looked more confused and Spike’s shoulders slumped. “You really don’t see it, do you?” He gave Angel a sad little smile. “I’m completely knackered here, mate. I’m gonna go to bed. You can let yourself out.”

He shuffled off and Angel watched him go. Something about the set of Spike’s shoulders bothered. He’d never seen Spike look so…beaten. He stood in Spike’s kitchen and thought about what Spike had said. He replayed their entire conversation in his head- and then he did it again. It didn’t sound any better the second time. He winced and forced himself to remember the things he’d said and done to Spike since the blond had appeared in L.A. God, when had he become such a prick?

He hadn’t always been this bad, had he? Angel smiled. He couldn’t have been because Cordy would have kicked his ass. It was Wolfram & Hart; being there made him feel…off and Spike was bearing the brunt of his bad moods. Angel sighed; seems he had a lot to make up for. He searched through the cupboards until he found a mug to heat Spike’s dinner in. When the blood was heated to Angel’s satisfaction, he carried the mug to Spike’s room. He was about to knock when he heard a faint noise. He stilled, listening. Spike was crying, the sobs too quiet for any but Angel’s ears to pick up. Angel leaned his forehead against the door, guilt crashing through him at the sound of Spike’s anguish.

Spike had gone to his room and curled up on his bed. He was so tired. Tired of hurting, of having people hurt him. Why did he do this? Stay in a place he obviously wasn’t wanted just because of a familiar person. He’d done it with Buffy and now he was doing it here, with Angel. He wasn’t trapped here anymore, so why stay? Simple, really. He hated being alone, always had. He couldn’t stand the thought of going to a strange place with unfamiliar people. When he’d traveled before, it was always with Darla, Angelus, and Dru and then later just him and Dru. He’d never had to be on his own before and he didn’t want to be. Self-disgust rippled through him; he was over one hundred years old and yet he wasn’t ready to be alone. Christ, human children left their families when they were still practically children, but he hadn’t managed to leave his.  
Everything just crashed in on him at once and he began to sob; quiet sobs that were no less powerful for their silence. Lost in misery, Spike didn’t hear the door open. He was unaware of Angel’s presence until the bed dipped as the elder vampire sat down next to him. Spike looked at him, face full of angry humiliation. Shit, caught at his lowest point by the one person he never wanted to see him vulnerable. He tried to sit up, forgetting about his arms and using them to push himself up. He hissed in pain and fell back on the bed.

Angel helped him sit up, not saying a word. “Let me help you.”

Spike looked at him suspiciously, but finally gave in. He was too tired to fight anymore. He sagged against the headboard and stared at Angel.

“Hungry?” Angel asked.

The smell of blood finally permeated his senses and Spike’s stomach growled. Angel smiled and reached for the mug on the bedside table. He noticed the effort it took Spike to just sit against the headboard. Without stopping to think about it, he drained the mug himself. Kicking off his shoes, he climbed into the bed and settled beside Spike. Being very careful not to jostle his arms, Angel arranged Spike against his side, Spike’s lips at his throat.

“Go ahead and feed, Childe.”

Spike shuddered at the words he hadn’t heard in well over a century. He didn’t want to think, didn’t want to analyze what had caused the sudden change in Angel so he shifted to game face, bent his head to the offered throat, and began to drink.

Angel ran a soft hand over Spike’s back, old memories crashing through him at the feel of Spike’s fangs in his throat. He brought his other hand up to run over the sensitive ridges of Spike’s forehead. His childe was so beautiful like this. A wave of protectiveness washed over him and for the first time in a long time he actually felt the pull of being a Sire.

Spike finally pulled away, sated, his body singing with that unique feeling that only came with Sire’s blood. He let his features smooth out and his head dropped to Angel’s chest. If he was high before, he was flying now. There was nothing in the world that could compete with Angel’s blood.

“Better?” Angel asked.

Spike nodded, feeling utterly boneless. He felt Angel’s hand rubbing his back and melted a little more. His brain was foggy and apparently no longer connected to his mouth.

“Been a long time since someone touched me and didn’t hurt me,” he mumbled.

Angel’s hand stilled momentarily then began to rub again. He felt that surge of protectiveness again, and pulled Spike a little closer.

“Still hungry?”

Spike shook his head. Angel’s hand swept up to rub Spike’s hair and Spike flinched. Angel immediately dropped his hand.

“Did I hurt you?” Angel asked, concerned.

“No, I just…” embarrassed silence then “I’m dirty. Can’t take a shower or anything cause I can’t turn the water on and even if I could, I can’t raise my arms enough to wash my hair.”

“I hadn’t thought of that.” Angel paused for a second. “Do you want me to help you take a bath?”

“No!”

“Come on Spike. I know how much you hate being dirty. Why won’t you let me help you?”

“Because, well, because.” Yeah, that made perfect sense.

“Stop being a brat,” Angel chided, his tone holding more affection than Spike had heard in a long time. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. I’ve done it before.”

Wrong thing to say because immediately they were both assailed by memories of another time and place- William and Angelus playing for hours in a huge wooden tub before a raging fire, Angelus delighting in making every inch of his boy clean just so he could get him dirty all over again. The tension that always existed between them swelled, became something else entirely. Angel eased out from under Spike, laying him carefully on the bed. He headed for the bathroom and began to fill the tub.

Spike lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling. His emotions were rocketing all over the place and he didn’t know how much more of this he could take. Angel came back to the bed and helped Spike to the bathroom. Wordlessly, Angel divested Spike of his clothes and then helped him settle into the hot water. Spike leaned against the back of the tub, eyes closing in bliss.

Angel left him alone to soak, not wanting to make things any more awkward. He was semi-hard just from the memories of bathing with William. This was going to be torture. He stood at the bedroom window, staring out at the night sky, and trying to get himself under control.

Spike dozed, letting the hot water soothe his aches and pains. He thanked whoever had been smart enough to invent running water and bathtubs; he could stay here for days. He opened sleepy eyes when he heard Angel come back into the bathroom.

Angel had to swallow hard the half-lidded look Spike gave him; it was the same one he used to give Angelus when- no, not going there. This part was going to be hard enough without remembering things like that. Angel knelt by the tub and helped Spike sit up. He grabbed the shampoo, poured a generous amount into his hand, and then began to lather Spike’s hair.

Spike leaned into Angel’s hand, practically purring at the feel of fingers massaging his scalp. He was almost disappointed when Angel finished and then carefully rinsed his hair. Until Angel grabbed the washcloth and began to wash the rest of him.

Angel ran the soapy cloth over every inch of Spike’s back, trying not to watch the way the suds ran down his back and over the tempting curve of his ass. He tore his eyes away and helped Spike lean back in the tub. He resolutely moved the washcloth around to wash Spike’s front. Gee, this part wasn’t going to be difficult at all.

Angel was so close; Spike couldn’t help but breathe deep, taking in the scent of shampoo and soap and sire. God, he still smelled the same. Spike never let himself notice things like that. Thinking like that led to much badness. Not that his dick was listening; it was filling slowly, Angel’s closeness too tempting to ignore. Spike cringed; there was no way to hide his erection and any second now Angel was going to notice Spike’s…problem.

Angel had, of course, already noticed. He was hyper-aware of Spike in a way he hadn’t been for a long long time. He slowly ran the washcloth over Spike’s chest, watching as the nipples tightened and hardened under his touch. Lower now over abs that tightened and quivered under his touch. Lower still…

“Fucking hell, Angel!”

Spike almost shot out of the tub when the soapy washcloth wrapped around his erection and Angel’s hand began to pump him in slow measured strokes. Blue eyes locked on brown and there wasn’t a sound in the room except for Spike’s labored breathing and rasp of cloth on flesh. Then Spike’s body stiffened and he gave long low moan as he reached his climax.

Angel quickly finished washing Spike, then rinsed him, and pulled him gently from the tub. He wrapped a towel around him then picked him up and carried him to bed.

Spike was too relaxed to protest at being carried like a small child. Besides, Angel’s arms weren’t a bad place to be. When Angel placed him on the bed and started to move back, Spike ignored the pain in his arms and slid them around Angel’s back, pulling him down and bringing their mouths together.

“Spike.”

“Don’t,” Spike whispered against Angel’s lips. “Don’t want to talk about it. Can we just…”

More kissing and Angel allowed himself to be pulled down onto the bed. He carefully settled his weight onto Spike.

“Angel, please, don’t want to wait.”

“Um, I don’t know if we can do this.” Angel saw Spike’s upset and kissed him gently. “I meant that I don’t have anything. You know, to use.”

“Oh. I think there’s lotion in the bathroom.” Angel arched a brow and Spike bit his jaw. “Fred stocked the bathroom. Ponce.”

Chuckling, Angel went to the bathroom and found the lotion. He came back and set the bottle on the table next to the bed. He shed his clothes then climbed into bed and settled himself over Spike once more. He slid Spike’s towel off and tossed it aside. Naked flesh against naked flesh and they both groaned at the sensation.

“Want you Spike,” moaned against Spike’s mouth as they kissed.

“Yes.”

Angel reached for the lotion. He searched Spike’s face for any sign of reluctance and found none. “I know your arms are hurting. Promise me you won’t move them; just let me do all the work.”

Angel poured a generous amount of lotion over one hand then slid his hand under Spike’s balls to play gently with his ass. He leaned down and took Spike’s cock into his mouth, bringing him back to full hardness while he carefully prepared Spike. When he could easily move three fingers inside Spike’s ass, Angel settled between Spike’s thighs and with one long steady glide, he was finally buried in his Childe’s willing body.

“Angel, I want to touch you.”

Angel shook his head. “Arms on the mattress, Childe, you’re in enough pain.” Angel stretched out until he was lying completely on Spike. “Better?”

“Hm, yes.”

Angel started to move, long steady strokes that made them both burn. He buried his face in Spike’s neck, nipping at the soft skin. Spike wrapped his legs around Angel’s waist, raising his hips to meet Angel’s thrusts. His cock was trapped between their heaving bellies and he moaned at the friction.

“So good Sire. Didn’t know that I missed this.”

Tremors rocked through Angel at the soft words. He braced himself over Spike and started to thrust harder, capturing Spike’s mouth and swallowing the pleasured cries. They came together in a rush so powerful it left them both shaking. Angel collapsed onto Spike and they lay together, breathing harsh and raspy.

Angel finally roused himself and made his way to the bathroom. He cleaned up and then returned to the bedroom to help Spike do the same. He hesitated, not sure if he should go or stay. Spike smiled at him and carefully patted the bed next to him. With a grateful smile, Angel slid in next to him and pulled the blankets over them. He pulled Spike to him, letting him drape himself over Angel’s broad chest, being as careful as he could with Spike’s arms.

Spike sighed contently and curled tighter into Angel.

“Sire?”

“Shh, Childe. Just sleep. We’ll talk in the morning.”

“’k.”

Angel kissed the blond head and wrapped his arms around Spike. He rubbed Spike’s back and waited. He smiled; Spike still breathed in his sleep. Angel fell asleep, surrounded by the scent and feel of his Childe.


End file.
